Note to the reader: This story is based on actual events.
I don’t remember how we met her. All of a sudden all four of us were crowded around her at this little beach bar on a Friday night. It was spring break, and because we are at school in Florida none of us had headed home. Instead we hung around the shore clubs, looking to score out-of-town hotties who had come to the beach to unwind. Read more…
INTRO: We’ll skip our usual, long-winded introduction for this tale which we found to be completely self-explanatory. Hope it gives you the kicks (especially if delivered by lovely, nylon-clad foot) that it did for Mistress and me! Read more…
It all started because of a bad review. An influential local blogger had panned my gallery exhibition the day after it opened. “Ivan Griel’s paintings lack depth and vibrancy,” the post began, and went downhill from there. It was the first time anyone had said or written anything so negative about my work, and it flummoxed me. Read more…
Note to the Reader: This story is one of wish-fulfillment. One of Goddess Marquesa’s favorite pass times. It is, of course, entirely fictional.
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“STOP! HOLD IT! PLEASE STOP! Stop right now. I don’t want him representing me!” If the defendant’s outcry doesn’t quite stun the courtroom, it certainly wakes it up. A loud outcry arises from the spectators and echoes through the space.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The judge’s gavel punctuates the outburst. “The defendant will come to order. Order in this courtroom.” To the defendant, “Sir, sit down and remain quiet!” Read more…
My name is Paul… or Slave Paul… and I am writing this essay as a testimony to the wonderful dominant powers of Mistress Marquesa.
First let me say that I consider myself an ordinary adult, professional male in every sense of the words. I am very athletic, I love sports of all kinds, I think I have a good sense of humor, and no one would even come close to guessing that I am a sex slave to the Magnificent Marquesa. Read more…
